


More Than an Imaginary Friend

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dead Karkat, Humanstuck, Implied voyeurism (if you squint), Innuendo, M/M, Paranormal AU, Schizophrenia, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sollux knows there has to be a reason the house his family bought came at such a low price. As someone who's been dealing quietly with his ability to talk to the dead his whole life, he soon discovers that it's haunted. Maybe he'd mind that a little less if the guy "haunting" the place wasn't such a grumpy asshole.</p><p>---</p><p>Fill for the HSWC Bonus Round 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than an Imaginary Friend

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i actually really like solkat sometimes, and this was fun to write, so i was like ehh why not. 
> 
> fill for this prompt: http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/21508.html?thread=5890820#cmt5890820

The first thing that comes to your mind when you see pictures of your new home is a cynical, _There has to be a reason this house is so cheap._

Four bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms and two floors. For once, you won't have to share a room with your older brother, which is kind of a relief. The house itself was practically a steal, which was the first thing to arouse your suspicion. Homes this size don't normally come at the price this one does, unless there's some kind of catch.

You bluntly tell the realtor this, causing your dads to roll their eyes at how jaded you are. You're certain you aren't imagining the way she pales slightly, though, or the nervous edge to her laugh. As she takes you on a tour of the place, you note the way her eyes dart around anxiously, like she's expecting something to leap out at you.

The second indicator that something's amiss is that she eventually admits that the last people to own this house packed up and left pretty quickly. You don't notice anything out of place, but that doesn't make you any less skeptical that there's something wrong with it. Maybe there's a wasp's nest on the roof, or a termite infestation, or perhaps the neighbors are just really shitty. 

Yet for all your scrutiny, you come up empty-handed by the end of the tour. Even though the feeling of being watched or hearing whispers in the back of your mind isn't something you're unfamiliar with, you're left with an uncomfortable prickly sensation under your skin, even after you step back outside. Shuddering, you try to rid yourself of it and shake off your impending sense of dread as your fathers inform the realtor that they like this one.

\---

You end up moving in two weeks later. Mituna has already claimed his room, leaving you with your pick of any remaining ones, excluding the master bedroom. In your arms are a few boxes of your belongings that were small enough to take with you, mostly electronics; the movers will be arriving soon with all of the furniture. 

Eventually settling on the more secluded room towards the back of the house, you set down your boxes in a corner and start rifling through them to find your 3DS. Once you've retrieved it, you plop down cross-legged against the wall and sigh. You may as well make yourself at home, you suppose. 

It's only a matter of minutes before you find out the reason your new home seemed like such a good deal. Unfortunately, _you're_ the only one who can see the problem. 

While most people would be startled if they heard someone scoff over their shoulder, you don't even look up. "Go away, MT," you grumble, "I'm kind of in the middle of something. I don't have time for your shit right now."

You get a muffled snicker in response, but you ignore it. That turns out to be a mistake, because a few seconds later your 3DS shuts off suddenly, even though your hand wasn't anywhere near the power button. 

Stunned, you stare blankly at the dark screen for a few seconds before letting out a furious shriek. That's when you hear loud, raspy laughter bouncing off the walls of the empty room, and your head snaps up to find the source. A short Hispanic boy is standing several feet in front of you, almost doubled over and holding his sides. His body has a translucent look to it, and it occurs to you that his feet aren't actually touching the ground. He's dead. 

The realization that your house is apparently haunted by an adolescent asshole of a ghost isn't met with shock or fear, but only serves to make you even more furious. Getting to your feet, you chuck the 3DS at him, and it predictably sails right through his intangible body and lands on the floor by the opposite wall. It gets him to shut up, at least. A stunned look crosses his features, and he peers down at his middle, looking utterly violated. His form appears to shiver disgustedly, and he gives you a withering glare that morphs into a surprised expression when you begin shouting obscenities at him.

"What the _fuck_ was that for? I was about to beat the the Pokémon Champion, you worthless sack of ectoplasmic garbage!"

The ghost looks around the room, as if to confirm that he's the only one you could be talking to. "You... you can see me?" He asks, clearly not having expected that. Then again, most spirits don't expect anyone to be able to see and hear them. You're kind of a special case. 

" _No shit_ , asswipe," you spit. "If I could punch you, I'd do that, too! What the hell is your damage?"

"Ooh, the scrawny nerd's gonna try to beat me up, I'm terrified!" Crossing his arms over his chest, he huffs, "Wouldn't you be kind of irritated if someone came into your house uninvited and decided to move right in, thus invading your space and destroying any hope you might have had of spending your otherwise miserable days in peace and quiet?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Wait, so lemme get this straight- you're so bitter that a working-class family moved here from a shitty apartment, even though it happened to be the only decent option within their budget, that you've made it your job to hate them because you don't have anything better to do with your pathetic existence?"

He hesitates, lips curling into a scowl. "Well... yeah, technically. I guess." Dragging a semi-transparent hand down his face, he sighs, "Look, I didn't expect anyone to actually be able to see me, okay?"

"What, and the fact that someone can call you out on your bullshit is suddenly a total game-changer?" 

He shrugs, averting his dead, blank eyes. "I'm not obligated to explain everything to you. After all, you've already made yourself comfortable in my room, at least have a little goddamn respect for my privacy and keep your nose out of my business."

"... This is your room?" Suddenly unsettled, you let your eyes dart around once more.

"Yeah," he replies gruffly. "Calm down, it's not where I actually died or anything."

"Oh." You scratch at the back of your neck awkwardly, but you can't get the little hairs there to stop bristling. After a short, tense silence, you speak up again. "Sooo... how did you die, then?"

His eyes narrow to white slits. "Holy shit, didn't I literally _just_ get done telling you to mind your own fucking business? You're almost as bad as the _gringos_ who used to talk really slowly to me like I was some kind of incoherent moron, even after I told them I speak English!"

"Okay, sheesh, I get it! Besides, you were the one who brought the subject up in the first place," you point out. "Man, for someone who's already dead, you're sensitive."

"Well, fucking _excuse me_ for not wanting to open up and pander to your curiosity! God, how terrible of me!" If looks could kill, you're certain you'd be in the same state he is. "And anyway, I haven't even been dead for that long. Only like, a couple months. So I haven't reached the point of complete and utter apathy yet," he drawls sarcastically.

"What a relief," you reply just as dryly. "If that's the case, am I at least allowed to know your name? Or would you rather I call you Dead Angry Douchebag?"

"It's Karkat," he answers, still appearing somewhat ruffled. When you snort at that, it doesn't seem to help his mood any. "What, what the fuck is so funny?" Automatically getting defensive, he growls, "Okay, smartass, what's your name, if you think it's so much better than mine?"

"Sollux," you tell him.

Predictably, Karkat barks out a laugh. "Thollux? What the hell kind of name is that, just how much did your parents hate you?"

"No, it's- it's _Sollux_ , with an 'S'," you snap indignantly, trying your best to keep your lisp at bay. "And I can't say how much they hated me, considering the fact that I'm adopted."

He cringes noticeably, and the atmosphere in the room becomes even more awkward. "... Oh."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. Oh." Then you shuffle across the room and bend over to grab your game, sighing deeply. "You can make my life as difficult as you want, but I'm not leaving any time soon-" By the time you get back up and turn around, though, Karkat is gone. You rub your forehead exhaustedly, coming to the conclusion that it was probably just another of your schizophrenia-induced hallucinations, and shrug it off.

Still, you can't fight the slight chill that runs down your spine. 

\---

Karkat revisits you a few days later, after all of your furniture has been moved in. You're reclining on your bed with your laptop resting on your thighs, working on some coding when the air temperature drops several degrees. The air conditioner isn't on. 

You feel a cool draft brush your cheek and a whisper in your ear: "Boo."

Your eyes still trained on your screen, you unflinchingly comment, "Gay."

His exasperated groan makes you smirk a bit. "What, that didn't freak you out? Not even a little bit?"

"I think what freaked me out the most was your proximity, which kind of implied some homoerotic frustration on your end. I prefer partners that are alive, usually," you inform him.

"Wow, fuck you! Here I was about to grovel and apologize for being a dick the other day, but surprise surprise, you went and completely obliterated any reason I had for doing so."

"Really? That was kind of a weird way of showing remorse," you remark casually. "I mean, normally I'd be all for taking sexual favors, but it's kind of hard to give those when you're intangible."

"I have absolutely no desire to go anywhere near your dick," he hisses contemptuously. "I was just trying to make you jump or scream or something, because that would be hilarious. Also, I'm bored."

You quirk a brow, peeking at him out of the corner of your eye. "How do you know I have a penis? Not all guys have those, you know."

For a being without any bones or blood, he seems pretty stiff and flustered. "You know what, this conversation is stupid and so are you. I'm out of here."

Before he can float out of sight, you grin cheekily and call after him. "Hey, KK?"

He turns warily, eyeing you with disdain. "What?"

"Get a life." 

His face turns so red with rage that he almost seems solid for a second, before he whirls and phases through the wall without another word. 

Predictably, your laptop shuts off seconds later, but you're too busy cackling at your own joke to care. You're confident that he'll be back, though, figment of your imagination or not.

**Author's Note:**

> [sings] it's okaY 2 BE GAY


End file.
